The city didn't sleep, but it didn't exactly live either. It just.... Existed.
I sat. On a creaky iron bench that groaned like it hated me, hands sunk into the pockets of my threadbare hoodie, hood up to shield my ears from the chill breeze. My stomach growled again, quiet, but sharp. I ignored it.
Across the street, there was an old man, his physique had more bones than body, standing crookedly on the corner like a leftover scarecrow someone forgot to retire after the harvest. He leaned on a cane that didn't look like it helped much. His eyes sparkled from mischief. Something dangerous hidden in laughter.
He cleared his throat loudly, tapping the cane twice on the pavement as if to summon attention that never came.
"One ticket to go!" he sang, voice ringing, "Just one ticket before the game begins!"
No one stopped.
No one even looked at him.
Like he wasn't even there.
He limped toward a suited man with a face like stone, holding out a small slip of paper with something scrawled on it.
"Care for a chance to play, sir? One ticket left, very rare opportunity."
The man barely glanced. "Sorry, old man. Not interested."
And he walked off, briefcase tight in hand, as if afraid the old man might rob him with words.
Undeterred, the geezer shuffled to a teenager leaning on a bike, scrolling through his phone.
"Lad? How about it? A free entry into the greatest game of your life?"
The boy blinked, then shrugged, not even pulling out his earbuds.
"Nah… I'll pass."
The old man chuckled, as if the rejection tickled him.
Next, a young woman. Smartly dressed, heels clicking like they had purpose. He barely got close before she smiled politely.
"Oh dear," she said with a hint of laughter, "I don't think I'd like those kinds of games."
And just like that, she vanished into the river of people again.
I watched all of it from where I sat.
I didn't know why, exactly. I should've been worrying about tonight, about the bills I wasn't going to pay. But I just sat there, watching this frail man offer something no one seemed to want, to people who didn't seem to notice he existed.
Maybe I saw myself in him.
After the third rejection, the old man stood still, cane tapping softly against the sidewalk like it was counting heartbeats. His head tilted back, dark eyes staring straight up into the blanket sky. A long breath escaped his lips like smoke from a dying fire.
"Welp…" he muttered to the heavens, "Looks like today ain't my day, huh?"
Then he chuckled again. Not bitter. Just… amused. As if fate was a joke he already knew the punchline to.
He hummed some aged, cracked melody, something old enough to be forgotten by the world, as he turned and started limping across the street. Toward me.
Step by step, the cane echoed closer. His shoes scuffed the pavement like they were tired of walking. I didn't move. Just kept my gaze low, pretending not to notice, but soon after, I felt him stop just in front of me.
He stood there for a moment, breathing through his nose, eyes flicking between me and the empty space beside me. Still humming.
Then, with a slow pause, he spoked.
"Hello, young man. Mind if I sit next to you?"
I didn't turn to look. My gaze stayed fixed on the wet, cracked sidewalk in front of me. A faded candy wrapper fluttered by, then caught beneath the foot of a stranger walking past.
"You can if you want," I said, plain and flat, the words almost rolling off my tongue without weight.
I didn't mean to sound cold. But I didn't have the energy to dress up my tone with false cheer. Not today. Especially not today.
I'd seen him earlier, offering that strange ticket to anyone who'd glance his way. No one took him seriously. Why would they? The city was full of people selling nonsense. Dreams wrapped in garbage. And I didn't want to be part of his illusion. I had enough of my own reality.
And that reality was brutal.
Laid off like discarded paper. No notice. No warning. No explanation. Just a single line in an email I couldn't even finish reading.
"We regret to inform you…"
Yeah. Regret. Sure they did.
After everything. The long hours. The overtime. The late nights walking home because bus fare meant less food. I gave it my all for years and they tossed me like nothing. Like I was always nothing.
My eyes dropped to my lap.
Four pounds and some metal coins in my pocket. That was all I had. And two little mouths at home, Lili and Lala, probably curled up on the couch right now.
Maybe I could get a loaf of bread with what I had. Split it between them. I'd just pretend I already ate, like always. Just to see them smile. Even if only for a night.
The world's cruel, but I could take it. They shouldn't have to.
It's been like this since the bomb.
Three years ago. My parents had gone shopping. Just a routine thing. A fruit market on the west side before.... Before the explosion that tore a hole in my chest happened, and since then, it hasn't closed.
They were gone before I even got to say goodbye.
And the girls… they were only seven then. Seven. How do you explain to two kids that the people who held their hands yesterday are now just names buried in dirt?
I blinked slowly.
The old man had already sat beside me while my thoughts drifted into the dark corners I usually kept sealed. He was quiet, like he didn't want to intrude. Whistling low under his breath.
He stared forward, but not at anything. Just into the skyline,
"Life isn't always easy for any of us," he said, as if he'd been talking to himself, or maybe talking to the wind. His voice wasn't bitter. Just… tired. And knowing.
"The worst part of it all," he went on, "is the change that's happening. Everything's turning upside down. Food costs rising like bad debts. Sickness spreading like it's normal. People dying in corners that no one even notices anymore."
He exhaled long and slow, the whistle fading from his lips.
"And the government? Pfft..." he let out a sharp puff of air. "They ain't doing a thing. Just turned a blind eye to it all. Like we're ghosts."
"If only…" he continued, pausing halfway for a moment, his gaze tilting just slightly toward me, "…if only a chance to change all that could happen."
His words lingered in the space between us like smoke that wouldn't fade.
Then he spoke again, this time with a deliberate edge, like he wanted me to hear, like it was aimed.
"Don't you think it's true, young man?"
The question poked at me like a finger tapping my chest. I blinked, startled slightly. I hadn't realized I was still half-trapped in my thoughts. My mind had been drifting down familiar roads I'd walked alone too many times.
"What?" I almost said that out loud, the word halfway up my throat.
But instead, my mouth moved on its own.
"Yeah… it's kinda true," I replied, voice low. Numb, even.
I didn't even know what he said completely. Not really. But it didn't matter.
Because somehow, I felt like I agreed anyway.
The old man chuckled.
"You seem lost in your thoughts," he said gently, his voice laced with the warmth of someone who's seen too much and somehow survived it all.
He paused for a second, tapping his cane softly against the pavement. Then, with a curious tilt in his voice, he added, "Mind if I ask what's gotten you this way?"
My eyes slowly slid toward him, before blinking slightly, and looking away. My voice came out low, blunt. Not cold, just tired.
"Don't bother."
He didn't seem offended. In fact, he nodded as if he'd expected that answer.
"Alrighty, alright," he said, holding up a hand like he was surrendering to a game he wasn't trying to win. "I'll just keep my curiosity to myself."
"But," he added, dragging the word like a string being unwound, "if I may just ask one… question…"
I didn't answer. Not immediately.
I didn't come here to talk. I didn't come here to meet anyone, let alone play guessing games with an eccentric stranger who carried riddles in his coat pockets.
This bench was mine. My little resting place. My crumbling corner of the world where I could sit, breathe, and unravel all the knots in my chest without someone tugging them tighter.
And now this man, this curious old man with that damn hum and patient smile, was making my already heavy day feel heavier.
I sighed through my nose. Eyes still on the ground. Jaw set.
"…What question?" I muttered, not bothering to mask the annoyance in my voice.
He straightened up a little and smiled, like a teacher who finally got a stubborn student to participate.
"I'd like to know your name," he said simply. "Before I leave here. If that's okay with you."
That caught me off guard more than it should have. I expected another riddle, another weird statement. But that? That was just… human.
Strangely, I felt a small thread of relief pull loose in my chest.
Finally.
Maybe now he'd leave.
So I replied quickly, without overthinking it.
"Raphael."
The old man's mouth curled into a pleased grin. He repeated the name slowly, almost like he was trying out a new word for the first time.
"Ra-phael… Raphael… Hmm…" He nodded once, tapping his cane against the ground again. "I'll remember it."
He pushed himself up from the bench with a soft grunt, bones creaking just slightly. The hem of his worn coat swayed with the motion.
"Alright," he said as he stretched his back with a subtle twist, "I'll get going, Raphael."
He turned slowly, humming that same soft, ancient tune, low, off-key, but calm as he began to walk away down the sidewalk, cane tapping gently with each step.
"I hope to see you soon," he added, without looking back.
Finally.
Silence again.
I let out a slow breath as the stranger's footsteps faded,
That strange man was gone. And with him, the odd weight he brought.
Now I can return to my peace, I muttered inwardly, the thought soft and selfish though welcoming... My chest eased slightly as I glanced at the time on my phone. I'd been here for over an hour. Just sitting.. Thinking.
It was probably time to go.
Lili and Lala must have woken up by now. They'd gone to sleep early, worn out from another day of nothing. No school. No toys. Just each other.
My legs ached a little as I pushed myself up from the cold iron bench as I turned to leave,
But just at that moment, my eyes drifted subconsciously, lazily toward the spot where the old man had been sitting.
Then I stopped.
"Huh?" I blinked.
There it was. Lying right there on the edge of the bench, half-tucked beneath a patch of peeling paint and rusted slats.
He forgot something.
A ticket?
I almost said it out loud without thinking, squinting slightly as I glanced down the street where he'd gone. He was still walking slow, humming, his coat fluttering like a ghost behind him, but he was far now. Too far to shout. Too far to chase without making a scene.
I hesitated. Just a moment.
Then I sighed and reached for it.
The ticket wasn't paper. Not exactly. It felt strange in my fingers, slick, cool, but heavier than it looked. Like a card. A single, black-edged rectangle.
Curiosity pushed through my weariness.
I flipped it over.
Text.
Small, gold-lined letters etched into the back like they'd been burned in with a whisper. They shimmered slightly, pulsing faintly against the dark surface.
Without even realizing it, I began to read:
DING! WELCOME PLAYER RAPHAEL.
YOU'VE SUCCESSFULLY BEEN ADDED TO THE GAME!!
My heart stuttered.
What?
I opened my mouth, the start of a sentence catching on my tongue,
Which ga...?
Then it hit.
A voice.
Deep. Old. It didn't enter my ears, it grew inside my skull, like it had always been there, waiting.
THE FINDING OF THE CARD… SPELLS THE JESTER'S RETURN.
It wasn't spoken.
It echoed.
I froze, breath caught halfway in my lungs. My hand still gripped the card, knuckles white. The world around me slowed... no, not slowed. Fell away.
The air shifted.
My vision blurred at the edges, not like dizziness.. no, more like the city itself was dissolving, melting into ink. The sidewalk beneath my feet vanished first, then the flickering lights, then the buildings, the cars, the sky.
Gone.
I wasn't standing anymore.
I wasn't anywhere.
No air. No sound. No light.
Only.
Complete Utter Darkness.
Endless... Weightless.
And in that moment, something stranger happened.
My shock…
My fear…
My confusion…
All of it started to drift from me.
Like leaves in windless water.
Like they were never really mine to begin with.